“Derrek will never let me have akitchen. I gave up on that dream the second I left him.” I had doubts that Iwould be in the food truck business for another week now that Derrek knew whereto find me.
His expression transformed fromcasual to furious in less than a second. He went from relaxed and fluid toangry, rigid lines, his fists clenched at his side, his jaw so hard it pushedhis cheek muscles out. “Who cares what Derrek thinks? You’re not stillconsidering going back to him, Vera. That would be a huge fucking mistake.”
“Geez.” I felt my stomach drop to mytoes. “Obviously not. I would never go back to him. I’m talking sabotage. He’sbeen pretty clear on what would happen to me should I choose to work somewhereelse besides his kitchen.”
And just like that Killian slumpedback in his chair, relaxed once again. Well mostly relaxed. The topic of Derrekstill put him on edge, but at least he wasn’t three seconds from turning intothe Hulk. “Derrek doesn’t get to decide where you work. Or what you do. Onlyyou decide that, Vera. He doesn’t get to control you anymore. And if he trieswe’ll take legal action.”
I ignored his use of “we’ll.” Iappreciated everything Killian had done for me, but I in no way expected him tohelp me fight Derrek all the way to court. I could never ask that of anyone,least of all Killian. But instead of explaining that, I changed the directionof the conversation. “I doubt he would do anything illegal. All he has to do istalk to the people he knows, get them to shun me and I’ll be completelyalienated. Un-hirable.” Killian shook his head, refusing to agree. So, Irepeated myself in simpler terms. “All he has to do is tell his friends in theindustry whatever bad rumor he wants, and I won’t be able to find a job at anygood restaurant in the entire state.”
“That’s not true,” Killiancountered. “His circle of friends is smaller than you think. Most people can’tstand the useless prick.”
That made me smile. “Still, I’m anobody. I haven’t even worked anywhere notable, and I graduated over four yearsago.”
“Who cares,” Killian insisted.“You’re a hell of a chef. You can have my letter of recommendation any time youwant it.”
I was speechless. Completely.Utterly. Speechless. It wasn’t like he’d offered another suggestion to mydishes, which I’d learned was both helpful and obnoxious. This was much bigger.
Killian freaking Quinn had justoffered to give me a letter of recommendation. He’d called me ahell of a chef.
Obviously, I’d died last night. Thiscouldn’t be real. This wasn’t my life.
I messed up. I always chose thewrong thing, the wrong path, the wrong boyfriend. I was the perpetual screw-upwho had just learned to be okay with that.
Whatwas happening?
“I wish you’d say something,” hecoaxed. “I can’t tell if you’re pissed or happy.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re sogenerous. I’m just, I’m trying to process all your support. If we’re honest,I’m still trying to process our friendship. So, this is like, I don’t know,incomprehensible.”
He snorted as he switched the charcuteriefor the mousse and passed me a spoon. “We’re notfriends,Vera. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I like you.And not in a way that’s appropriate forfriendsto like each other. Whether we explore our non-friendship or not, you have mysupport in your career no matter what. Your talent isn’t dependent upon me. Youjust kick ass in the kitchen. End of story.”
“Oh.”
“But if you want my honest advice,you’d be smothered in a kitchen that wasn’t your own. You might think you’denjoy working under someone, but we’re all assholes. And you’d be stifled,pushed into a box that you don’t belong in. Sure, you could work your way up,but you have your truck, so I don’t know why you would.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He leaned forward, taking my hand inhis and playing with the tips of my fingers. “Say yes when I ask you to go outon another date with me.”
“Another?”
He waved his hand at the table. “Icooked for you. Don’t I get credit for that?”
I pressed my lips together to keepfrom grinning like an idiot. “Yes.”
“Yes, I get credit? Or yes to thedate.”
“Yes, to both.”
And then he smiled at me again,soft, sweet, simmering with heat and affection and I thought my heart was goingto blow up and kill me. He’d literally turned me into a Billy Ray Cyrus song—butlike the happy version ofAchyBreakyHeart.
I’d never felt like this withDerrek. Or any of the other guys I’d dated before him. I’d never beensimultaneously this happy and this hopeful and this nervous. It was like mypast was black and white, and Killian Quinn had finally given me color. He’dbrought me back from a dead, lonely place and given me a reason to hope andsmile and laugh again.
We finished the mousse, and hewalked me outside, but only so he could press me against the cool side of thebuilding and kiss me senseless. His lips moved against mine greedy with adifferent kind of hunger than I was used to feeding. He gripped my hips andheld me against him, letting me feel all his hard, toned lines. My hands doveinto his hair, kissing him just as relentlessly as he kissed me.
When he pulled away, my lips wereswollen from his kisses, and my chin itched from the beard burn he’d left mewith. We said goodbye, and I walked across the street to my truck, pressing myfingers against my mouth and trying to hold in the taste of him.
Was this really me swearing off men?
